Turning by way of that contrast which our subject so abundantly presents, let us pass from the consideration of well-regulated, well-found steam-ship lines, to a different class of vessels—those “coffin-ships” of which we heard so much a few years since. As we all know, the term has been lately used to signify unseaworthy ships of all kinds—such as that mentioned by Mr. Plimsoll, which was loaded at Newcastle with nearly twice her proper tonnage, and dispatched to the Baltic in mid-winter, _with her main-deck two feet two inches below the level of the water_. She foundered eighteen miles from the coast. We are told of one man who had in six years lost twelve rotten ships, and 105 men; and of the _Elizabeth_, a vessel so weak and leaky, that it was necessary to pump her every hour when floating empty in harbour, but which was sent to sea with 180 tons of coal to founder with three out of five hands. It was certainly time for legislation when the statement could be made truly that a ship which had been refused a class by Lloyd’s Committee, and had been declared utterly unfit to go to sea by Lloyd’s surveyor, was dispatched across the Atlantic, or rather to the bottom of the Atlantic, there to lie with one crew, while another was safe in an English prison for refusing to proceed in her. In 1870, Mr. Samuel Plimsoll first commenced, so far as Parliament is concerned, those benevolent efforts for the amelioration of the sailor’s hard life, which must always place him among the highest ranks of philanthropists. Moved evidently by the purest motives, there are one or two mistakes to be recorded against him, but they were of the head, not of the heart. Government was at the time endeavouring, as far as can be seen, to accomplish nearly the same ends, but was hampered by the pressure of Parliamentary business. Lindsay, who was somewhat opposed to the views expressed by Plimsoll, and it is rather unfortunate that he was so, having been so long a ship-owner himself, yet endorses the remarks of a friend—a Vice-Admiral of Her Majesty’s service—who wrote to him: “Should there not be some more stringent provisions with respect to the inspection of sailing vessels? It is an old proverb, ‘Who ever saw a dead donkey?’ But who ever saw an old sailing-ship broken up? I am inclined to think that it is more to the interest of small owners to let an old tub go on shore than to bring her safe into port. This works two evils:—1, the danger to human life; 2, the greater rate of insurance on honest owners to make up an average for the dishonest.” The evil had become a most terrible one, and, in spite of some little reform, it is to be feared, goes on to-day with only partially-abated vigour.